


Baby Blue

by Chellann_Nicollares



Series: I Wish You Knew [2]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, M/M, Rhett POV, Sad Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 15:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3655296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chellann_Nicollares/pseuds/Chellann_Nicollares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stream of consciousness from the perspective of a pining Rhett. He had always loved the beautiful man next to him, but only in silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Mariah Carey's "I Wish You Knew" and Hozier's "From Eden".

He is always by his side but he never had him. Never tried.

There was only one time. One time he was leaning on the wall with his hands behind his back, lost in thought. He walked over with gentle steps and stood against the tips of his toes. He put his hands on either side of his shoulders and adored him from seven inches above. He looked up from under his eyelashes and parted his lips. He pulled his hands from behind his back and pressed them against his heart.

But he pushed with all his might until he stumbled back with dew drops all over the dusky forest in his eyes.

He walked away.

He never saw the baby blue eyes again that day.

When he came back he had a beautiful blonde in his arms, a daydream in a sundress.

“We each got a purple shirt with a gorilla on it and every once in a while we would wear it at the same time.”

“And then everyone called you the gorilla boys? Monkey men? Partners in chimp?”

“Or just gay, I think.” He said with a cool shrug.

He froze. There was no tension in his tone. No hesitation. No offense taken. No prejudice. He didn’t think it anything wrong to be that. He simply wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t either, at least not for anyone else. After all, there’s only one pair of eyes in the whole world that could make him question the quality of his own soul.

So he spent the next twenty years being careful, letting him know that he loved him like a brother. Not in the wrong way. Not in the real way. Not in the way that made his heart feel sliced open by scorching flames every day. He did not want to see the baby blue light freeze into an arctic ice core ever again.

He was still there, all broad shoulders and long legs and a different shade of stubble every day. He was still his best friend. He would follow him wherever he went to college. He would follow him anywhere, to LA, to Toronto, to Nice, he would fall asleep in the airplane seat next to him with his lips trustingly parted, he would fall asleep in the same hotel bed with his limbs trustingly slung over his tense body, and _that_ had to be enough.

So he spent the next twenty years loving two brunets at the same time, never questioning who had more claim over his heart, never questioning who knew his heart better. She has to know, because he gave his family nothing but love. _He_ has to know too, right? Because he had very literally written his name in the stars.

They would both be by his side, and that was enough.

He needed to keep him there. He is strong and he might even be stronger, “released like a restless coyote into the wild” he wrote, but he would always be a baby brother, a self-critical tender heart that needed a titanium shield. He needed to keep him there so that he could push the lime light out of his eyes if it became necessary, so that he could always stare down any offenses and put them in their place with mirthless baritone, so that he could stand slightly behind him and seven inches taller, shielding his back with his own body, shielding him from whatever might lurk in the dark.

He is a tall blond with crinkly-eyed smiles, a laid-back funny guy, a newly initiated Californian who walks with a sway, a spirit so gentle to the point of pacifism. But all that could change in the blink of an eye, for _him_.

For _him_ , he would gladly argue and glower, burn bridges and cut ties, and draw blood with his soft smooth knuckles even if he didn’t know how.

So he had remained cautious and vigilant. Vigilant for him, cautious for the sake of his own heart.

“I love you.”

“Well I like you as a friend.”

But it had to be enough to sit by his side every day and love him from there. After all, who else is lucky enough to be so close to someone so beautiful every day for ten years?

He looked ten years older. _He_ looked the same.

He watched him drag his fingers through the softest, shiniest of curls, but somehow with a frown and soft pink lips set in a hard line. You’re beautiful, he wanted to say. But beautiful is not a word from a man to a man. Not even best friend. Not even blood brother. Beautiful is a word that would make the shimmering baby blue freeze all over again.

“Forget about the logo”, he ended up saying. “Do what makes you happy.” Because that was the only thing that made me happy.

It makes me happy to feel your warmth on my arm and to see your lips from inches away.

It makes me happy to hear you laugh at something I say and know that you are comfortable enough to say something dubiously intimate back to me. If only for comedy. If only for the millions watching who matter so much less than you.

If you don’t want my hands flanking your shoulders or my toes and my lips pressed against yours, then I will not try again.

So he told himself that every day, looking from the right side.

He couldn’t help secretly hoping the random chances spinning on a wheel would allow him to reach out and press his hand anywhere on his warm skin. Screw logic and sense. Screw organic comedic development. He would reach out anyway. Surely it made the scorching flame in his heart lacerate a little harder after it was over, but he couldn’t help it. His heart had already made the wish before he had a chance to silence it.

He couldn’t help the lingering stares and glances, or the secrets pouring out of his eyes. He stopped hiding them a long time ago. His heart is too tired, and baby blue is simply too beautiful a color.

Even when his eyes are now concealed by thick frames, he would never stop looking at them from the right side with a wistful smile. Because he knows how they look. He knows how they glow.

In both of their lifetimes, he is the one person who has spent the longest time looking into those eyes.

And _that_ has to be enough.


End file.
